We have Ignition

Ready for blastoff? Well, here's the scoop--it's snowing.

It's been snowing all morning. We have about an inch on the ground, which basically says that we are losing it as fast as it's falling, but it's coming.

The "storm" explains yesterday's migraine that started up again this morning, and also explains that I have run out of a really cool yarn for another "unoriginal hat"--made out of Caron sparkle chenille I bought in Hastings.

Oh, yeah, I had to buy yarn from a store over an hour away, that turns out to be not enough yarn, right?

Seriously, complaints aside. I want more of this chenille--it's lime green, sparkly, soft and even though I had to make another repeat of the pattern to go around my head, I'm very pleased with it, but I've only done half the rows needed for the hat, and I've run out. Go figure.

It's not that I don't have more yarn, but I'm not going to travel all the way to Hastings to get more---even though the dye lots likely won't match. I'm thinking that I should be able to find this same stuff at Hobby Lobby or something along that line.

I have 4 hats in my coffers to give for Christmas, and more coming--I just have to go out and buy the yarn--which is presently on sale at Michael's--2 skeins for $7. It's a shame that there isn't more of a choice in colors. Yesterday, I spent the dollars to get the yarn for a knitted pumpkin--something to felt, and that's going to be a fun project, I think, and a centerpiece for the table for Thanksgiving. It's times like this that I wish I could locate all those pieces for the plastic canvas Turkey I started years ago--although I think I might have finished that project and lost the turkey--somewhere along the line...memory's gone--poof.

If I seem scatterbrained, I think you're right. The migraine from yesterday has left me somewhat "fuzzy" on things. Knowing that I have several doctor appointments next week doesn't help matters. And I have to check my email at work, because I'm supposed to turn a paper in to one of them on Monday. Yuck.

The trees are really pretty, what with the snow on the branches. The flakes are really fluffy, and they dance around and about each other, silently settling between the blades of grass that remain. So pretty. Not too hazardous in this quantity yet. Give it time. Inside, we are warm with the corn stove running on the first setting, and outside, the birds scarf down the finch seed like it was their last remaining meal on this earth. The goldfinches never leave the thistle sock, not even to rest--they are constantly there, hanging onto the sock for desperate life itself.